


Nightmares

by LetsGoBeTheGoodGuys



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 13:37:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19769308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetsGoBeTheGoodGuys/pseuds/LetsGoBeTheGoodGuys
Summary: Shortly after Jess dies, Dean wakes in the middle of the night when he hears Sam having a nightmare. Dean wonders if he should wake Sam up - does Sam still trust him like he used to? Will Dean even know how to help anymore?





	Nightmares

Dean woke to a soft sound, his hunter senses tuned to anything that might go bump in the night. He had his fingers on the gun under his pillow before he registered what he had heard. Not a monster. Just someone mumbling in their sleep. Dad must be having a dream. _Not Dad_ , Dean realized with a jolt. _Sam_. Sam was the lump currently in the other bed. If Sam was dreaming, that usually meant nightmares. Dean sat up quickly. He wasn’t quite used to seeing his little brother in the other bed anymore. When Sam had left for college and Dad had started letting Dean hunt on his own, Dean had tried sleeping in hotel rooms alone. But he couldn’t stand it. The panic he felt every time he woke in the night and couldn’t hear Sam breathing nearby had exhausted him. He had started always sleeping in the car. It wasn’t a lot better, and it sure wasn’t comfortable. But it was easier for him to not notice Sam’s absence.

Dean could see how Sam’s eyebrows were drawn together, his face tight. Definitely a nightmare. Dean stood and reached a hand out to wake Sam, before stopping suddenly. Would Sam want Dean to wake him up? Dean was sure he was dreaming about Jessica. What if Sam wouldn’t want Dean to wake him? What if he would rather stay in his nightmare than see the man who had come to take him away from her? Dean knew Jessica’s death wasn’t his fault. Or Sam’s. But he wondered sometimes if Sam blamed him for the fact that he hadn’t been there when she died.

Sam grumbled in his sleep, but still Dean hesitated. This would have been so easy just a few years ago. Before Stanford. Dean could’ve shaken Sam awake, assured him that he had just been dreaming. Sam would have thanked Dean softly, he would have let Dean’s hand linger on his shoulder. The need for tactile comfort was Dean’s, but Sam tolerated it sometimes even as a teenager. Especially after a nightmare. Dean was allowed to crack jokes after Sam’s breathing had evened out, allowed to ruffle Sam’s hair playfully and receive only an irritated smirk instead of the normal smack on the arm. Dean hated that Sam had nightmares but he had always appreciated how much nighttime softened his little brother. Sam had been angry so often before he left for school. But at night, when Dad wasn’t around, Sam would often let his guard down. And Dean had known all the rules back then. But now it was different. Now Dean knew what Sam was dreaming about. And it was more than just a dream. Dean had taken Sam away from the life he had built for himself. Would Sam accept anything from Dean now? Would he shove Dean away? Would Sam hate to have Dean wake him up - a stark reminder that Jessica was truly gone?

Then Sam cried out again and Dean’s thoughts evaporated. He dropped to his knees beside his brother’s bed, reaching out a hand and gripping Sam’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice firm. “Sam, wake up. Sammy?”

Sam sat up suddenly, the quick movement knocking Dean back on his heels. Sam’s eyes were wild, unfocused. He looked around the room until he turned and saw Dean by his bed. Dean stood. Sam kept his gaze on Dean, blinking slowly, clearly working to slow down his breathing.

“Dean?”

Dean hesitated, then placed his hand back on Sam’s shoulder, squeezing gently, trying to anchor Sam to reality. “I had to get you up, man. You were dreaming.”

Sam nodded. He looked away from Dean, down at his own hands. Dean saw a tear drip on to Sam’s hands.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said. He didn’t know what else to say. Sam had just lost his girlfriend. Dean couldn’t imagine what that must feel like. He had never had something like what Sam had with Jess. “Do… do you want to talk about it?”

Sam let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

Dean scoffed. Okay. Sarcasm. _Very Sam_. Dean could deal with this.

Dean shoved Sam gently, releasing his brother’s shoulder in favor of sitting on the edge of Sam’s bed. “Forget I asked.”

Sam looked at Dean, a hint of a smile on his tear-streaked face. Dean felt warmth run down to his toes. Sam looked so much like a kid again. And that look on his face. The one Dean knew so well. A perfect mix of petulance and affection. Maybe things between them hadn’t changed as much as Dean feared.

“Want a beer?” Dean asked.

Sam flopped back on his bed, rubbing his hands down his face, wiping away the tears. “No. I think I’ll try to go back to sleep.” His voice softened as he added, “I’m really tired, Dean.”

The vulnerability in Sam’s voice made Dean’s throat tighten. He had missed his kid brother more than he had ever let himself admit.

“Yeah,” Dean said. He patted Sam’s leg as he stood. “You need your beauty rest.”

Dean barely dodged out of the way of the foot Sam kicked at him.

After shooting a grin in Sam’s direction, Dean settled back into his own bed with a sigh, his amulet hitting against his chest.

“Dean?”

Dean turned his head toward Sam in response. His little brother was looking at him, bangs messy across his forehead. “Thanks.”

Dean looked away before replying. “Anytime, Sammy.”


End file.
